Protection

Our motorcycle has been fairly reliable since 2009 when I arrived in
Chad. Until recently. Over the last few months, we have spent a fair
amount of money trying to repair it, yet it still continues to be
unreliable. The roads are full of puddles and wet, muddy holes. Last
Sabbath we pushed our motorbike about 3km back home after it quit on our
way to church. We decided that it was time to get a new bike.

On Sunday, I took advantage of a flight to Moundu. Gary and Darren were
along also. The plan was for us to get two motorbikes - one for somebody
else and one for me. Darren and I would drive them about 130km by road
back to Bere.

Purchasing the two motorbikes and doing the paperwork took a number of
hours, but it was finally done. As we did one last check over the
motorbikes before beginning the journey back home, Gary pointed out a
nut on the brake mechanism that needed to be safetied. I found a strip
of wire on the ground and tied the wire around it to keep it attached. I
clipped the two extra pieces off. Then the Holy Spirit spoke to me
and said, "Save the rest of that wire. You might need it." I promptly
put the wire in the pocket of my backpack, even though it was only about
three inches long.

The trip started fairly well. A few minor problems showed up, but we
fixed them and continued. The bike seemed very low on power until we
discovered bubblewrap covering the air intake. It worked fine when we
removed that. The road heading North from Moundu to Kelo is much
improved from what it was even a couple years ago. It is paved and
well-maintained, at least according to African standards. We were
rolling along at a pleasant 40-45mph most of the way.

After reaching Kelo, we turned East onto the dirt road headed to Bere.
The first section is very rocky and quite bumpy. The sun was setting,
and with all of our delays, we knew we would be driving the last portion
of our journey in the dark. This road is full of puddles, some of which
are shallow, some of which are very deep. Even in the day time, it is
hard to identify deep puddles. At night, it is much more difficult. But
we were committed at this point and kept going.

All of a sudden I heard a "clink", and then a few moments later,
"clatter, clatter, clatter" and lost power. Either the chain was broken
or it had fallen off. Getting upset or frustrated does no good, so we
started to look at the problem. My Leatherman came in handy as it does
almost every day, and we soon had the chain back on the bike. A rubber
piece got chewed up, so we just removed it and the bike worked fine.

As we were working on this smaller moto, Darren was commenting on the
larger one he had been driving for the past half-hour or more. He said
the steering felt wobbly or loose. We thought that maybe it was just the
feeling of the new suspension of a new bike over the rocky road. Then
Darren pointed at the wheel and said, "Hey, look at this!"

The large nut had fallen off of the front axle bolt. This is the bolt
that holds the front tire onto the steering fork. And this bolt was
hanging several inches out the other side. It was just through one of
the sides of the fork. If the tire had come off while we were on the
pavement going 45mph, the accident would have been terrible. Even if it
came off on the dirt road where our speed was slower, it would have been
a dangerous situation.

Darren and I thanked God for protecting us and for keeping the front
tire attached somehow.

"How are we going to fix that?" I wondered aloud. We do not have a spare
nut. A few people came from the huts nearby, but none of them had nuts
or even wire.

Then I remembered the small piece of wire I had put in my backpack. "Let
me try something," I said, as I fished around for that little piece of
wire. "I hope it's long enough." Finding it, I discovered that it was
just long enough to go around the circumference of the bolt one time
with enough extra to twist. Using my Leatherman, I twisted the wire
firmly onto the threads of the bolt right where the nut would normally
sit. Then I pulled a piece of string out of my pocket and tied it
tightly around the wire and bolt as a second "precaution."

Night had fallen by now. Praising God one more time, we turned our
headlights on, and started down the muddy road toward home. At least
another 40km of road lay before us. The repair held perfectly, and we
arrived safely at home some time later.

Life experiences teaches me and reinforces important lessons:

When God speaks, listen! Even if He says, "Save that piece of wire. You
might need it sometime," obey.

When "bad" things happen, thank God. We do not always see why, but we
got to see why on this trip. Having to stop and fix a chain was
inconvenient perhaps, but allowed us time to notice a far greater danger.

All inspiration comes from God. I do not claim credit for the fancy
twisted wire trick, but credit God for the idea.

Thank you, God, for showing me Your care and protection over me once again.

Red, Our Monkey

Today something very sad happened. My favorite pet I have ever had, a
monkey, got bit by a dog and died. We have had this pet monkey since
March 2011. He was just a baby then. He grew up to be a very fun,
loving, and mischievous, pet. He would ride on my arm when Jonathan and
I went for walks in the bush. He also loved going on the motorbike to
the river with us, clinging to me all the way. He played a lot of pranks
too. He would race into the house, grab a banana and run out for all he
was good for! The locals used to call him my baby when he was little
because I would carry him around so much. Even my husband says "Red" was
his favorite pet he has ever had.

Sabbath

Darren and Joanne are still sick, but Darren is doing somewhat better.

Melody and I traveled down to Dabgue this Sabbath. On the way we picked
up a girl who wanted to come again, but her mom was sick. The road was
quite wet and we had to drive through a lot of muddy water.

Today, instead of preaching, I played a few selections from the audio
Nangjere Bible. I think I will do this again, as the people seemed to
connect better. They really appreciate hearing the Bible in their own
language. Melody told a Bible story on Jesus and the storm, and we
played the associated passage from Mark 4 Nangjere Bible.

The former chief's wife is gravely ill. We visited with her last week
and this week we returned to see her and to pray.

After that we continued with the girl to her mom's house. Her mom is
sick. She has been to the hospital and purchased medication, but is not
using the medication. She wonders why she is so sick still. She says the
medication makes her dizzy. "Malaria is deadly," I said, "but the
dizziness should only last a week." We tried and tried to convince her
to use the medications she had purchased so that she can regain her
strength and health again. After prayer, we returned home.

In the afternoon, we drove to Kasire, the branch Sabbath-school Darren
and Joanne normally lead. The road was bad, especially in one deep
section where Melody waded/walked and I weasled through on the moto. At
the village, we presented the story of Jesus in the storm and Paul in
the storm (Acts 27). As we play audio Scripture, we are finding that
people really connect with the passage better. Nobody really knows how
to read well, and by the time somebody struggles through reading a few
verses, nobody can really remember what the passage said. But with a
smooth reader, they can easily listen to a whole chapter at a time. We
returned home just before the rain started to fall.

Please pray for this group of people that they will continue learning
and growing.

Another day...

This Friday morning I awoke and made plans for the day. By now I know
that plans are rarely carried out exactly as designed, and this day was
no different.

Darren is sick with malaria, so is unavailable to help with work today.

The old lady with crutches came wanting a new shirt because the
under-arms were worn out from the crutches. She also wanted her crutches
repaired. Melody got her a shirt and I repaired her crutches. Several
other people wanted this or that. Once they were dealt with, I welded a
few things.

My plan was to go out to the nutrition center property to repair some
windows. The design is bad and they leak terribly in the rain.

Then I got a call. One of the malnourished babies has died. The family
is digging the grave already and wants me to come say a few words before
the burial. I hop on our moto, but the chain is loose. The "mechanics"
didn't do such a great job. I tighten the chain and then Melody and I
meet up with Bronwyn at the parents' house.

There is only a small crowd there. The women are seated on a couple mats
surrounding the mother. A relative is holding the dead baby there on the
mat. We great the sobbing mother and the others who have come to
sympathize with her. The men are standing around the small fresh hole,
which is only about eight inches square and about two feet deep.

I talk briefly with the dad who says that they are just waiting for me
to arrive. He said a few words. Then I shared a few words, perhaps for
only five minutes. I reminded them of the resurrection. I reminded them
that although this life is sometimes harsh, heaven will be a place of
peace. Their baby may play with lions. They, if faithful, will get to
see their baby grow up in heaven. Then we prayed.

"You take the baby," they say. So I kneel down next to the mother and as
I reach out my hands her sobbing increases. I take the baby in my arms
and carry it to the hole. The hole is lined with some cardboard and we
put the body in feet first. After packing the hole with dirt and
covering it with bricks, the job is done. The whole process took maybe
fifteen minutes.

I join the men sitting under a tree and we talk about this and that.
After a while one man says, "You Adventists do not believe in Jesus,
right?" A bit confused, I reply, "Jesus is foundational to what we
believe." He explains his question more and so we launched into a good
discussion about what the Bible teaches about several topics he had
questions about. I believe that God used this opportunity to bring me
and some village men together to talk about some things and to challenge
some long-held beliefs of theirs.

Next, Melody and I go to the market to get some salt and matches and
peanuts.

Upon returning home after 1pm, Melody starts preparing lunch. Roland and
I go out to pump water at the nutrition center. This involves hooking up
the generator trailer, adding some diesel fuel, driving it out to the
center and running the pump for about 40 minutes.

We just got the pump running when Melody calls me. "There's a man here
with a snakebite..." I drop everything, hop on the motorbike, and race
back to our compound. The man is sitting on a bench. I ask a few
questions and find out that the small black snake bit him three hours
ago while he was working in his rice field 12km from here. He got here
as fast as he could. The pain was mostly near the groin area. His toe,
the bite site, was mildly swollen. Melody and I gave him charcoal
internally and externally, and I gave him the moto-shock treatment. Then
his friend took him via moto to the hospital. I do not know the rest of
the story.

By now the time is close to 3pm. Sabbath is coming and there is a lot
left to do.

Gary arrives from his trip around 3:30pm and I help arrange to park the
plane. I still have to fuel the motorbike, lock containers, pump and
haul water for Darren and Joanne, pay one of my mason's for his work,
bathe, and do whatever else needs to be done before sundown.

By sundown, everything was squared away and we peacefully began the
Sabbath. My plans never materialized. The windows are not fixed. All day
I was busy doing other things.

But sometimes that is what happen when we commit our plans and goals to
God every morning. God gives help to keep from getting frustrated when
our plans fail. But if God's plans are accomplished, the day is a success.